


A Friendship Betrayed

by JantoJones



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Illya receives a mysterious summons.





	A Friendship Betrayed

The sound of two gunshots, one a mere fraction of a second after the other, rang around the snowy hills.

Napoleon leapt to his feet from the cold stone he had been sitting on, threw off his backpack, and sprinted off in the direction Illya had gone fifteen minutes earlier. Solo had known this expedition had been a bad idea from the moment his partner had received the mysterious summons from an old friend.

A postcard had been delivered to Illya’s apartment which had a location and a date written on it, along with the words “I’ve messed up again. Come alone”. According to the Russian, the phrase was a favourite of Trevor Lycett, who uttered it whenever he was caught doing something he shouldn’t; be it serious or frivolous. 

Having lived in a world of lies for most of his life, Illya had been reluctant to trust that the note was indeed from his friend. He had many enemies who could easily learn information about his university friends in London. He tried to keep his private life secret, but others weren’t so cautious. Illya turned to Napoleon, who offered to go with him. Kuryakin had agreed but insisted that he would travel the final part alone. The last words Illya had said before disappearing into the hills echoed around Napoleon’s mind as loudly as the gunshots.

“I will try not to get myself killed.”

It had been a reply to the instruction Napoleon had given before they’d parted company. Slipping and sliding on the icy rocks, Solo followed the only passable pathway. Within minutes he came upon a scene which froze his heart as cold as the landscape.

Two men lay motionless on the snow.

Napoleon ignored the dark haired figure and headed straight for his stricken friend. As he approached, Illya pulled himself up into a sitting position. Blood was running down the right side of his face where Lycett’s bullet had grazed him.

“Is he dead?” Illya gasped, as Napoleon steadied him.

Solo looked across to the other man and could see, without going over, that he was very much dead. No matter the situation, Illya was an expert marksman, and his shot had gone straight into Lycett’s forehead.

“I’m afraid so, Tovarisch,” Napoleon replied. “What happened?”

It was several seconds before Illya spoke again.

“He knew I would come if he sent that message,” he replied. “I was always there to get him out of trouble when he ‘messed up again’.”

Illya paused, taking deep breaths to try and control his emotions. Napoleon waited patiently for him to continue.

“Trevor was a little like you,” the Russian went on. “He had a love of the fine life and beautiful women. For him, university was one long party. The only reason he was never thrown out was because his father was a major benefactor. Although he came close to expulsion after using a small bomb to catch fish in the river. Luckily for me, he refused to say where from where he got the explosive.”

A small, sad smile fleeted across his lips, which Solo echoed. Illya seemed to have a ‘type’ when it came to the friends he chose. However, the way Kuryakin was speaking about Lycett gave no clues as to why the two men had shot at each other.

“Trevor was Thrush.”

The statement was said so simply, and with such little emotion, that Napoleon almost didn’t take it in.

“Thrush?” he said eventually.

“He had no idea that I was U.N.C.L.E. until recently, and had offered to use our friendship to lure me into a trap. Killing me was a way of cementing his position.”

Napoleon put a hand on Illya’s shoulder, completely at a loss as to what to say. The betrayal of a colleague was difficult, but the betrayal of a friend was almost impossible to accept. He was going to have to keep a close eye on his partner for the next few days.

“I’ll organise a clean-up,” he stated.

“I want him to go home,” Illya told him. “His mother should be allowed to say goodbye to him properly.”

Napoleon nodded his agreement. As far as Mrs Lycett will know, her son’s death will be put down to a hunting accident. Only he and Illya would ever know the truth.


End file.
